Humans might be the only biological creatures to sacrifice one sensory organ, i.e., the ear. The inner ear of humans contains the sensory systems of balance and hearing. Located close to the center of the skull, it is encased in the body’s hardest bones, making it one of the most protected sensory systems. This protection underscores the significance of hearing and balance for survival. Hearing aids in proper hunting for prey, particularly for predatory animals with forward-facing ears that help them focus entirely on their prey. Many prey animals, such as rabbits, have long ears that can move and rotate independently. Scientists suggest that our ears evolved from the gills of fish dating back 400 million years. But what are we doing with this organ now? We’re covering it with headphones.
Wearing headphones can be viewed from a different perspective—it may stem from a sense of safety. Subconsciously, we understand that there are no predators around when we’re alone in our rooms. We have roofs to protect us from natural events. We no longer need to hear the wind or seek refuge in a safe place. We wear headphones while out and about, knowing that traffic rules will be followed and people’s behavior will be predictable. Sacrificing awareness of the external environment brings the reward of immersing ourselves in brain-bending sounds of our favorite music or podcasts, or occasionally listening to the thoughts of our Supreme Leader during “Mann ki Baat.” Whether sitting on a local bus listening to live Beatles performances, in a crowded market enjoying classical music by Ravi Shankar, or practicing math while tuning into the latest Bollywood hits, headphones transport us anywhere.
However, the current concern is the disuse of our organs, which aligns with Lamarck’s theory. Lamarck proposed that unused organs gradually atrophy over generations until they disappear. While human society is in an evolutionary process regarding our hearing ability, we’ve chosen to simultaneously use and disuse our auditory organs. When the external environment becomes too chaotic—when we don’t want to hear the cries of a child on the sidewalk amidst developmental noise, the honking of taxi drivers trying to meet quotas, or the disturbances of a disturbed person yelling at trash cans with dogs nearby—we opt to drown it out with headphones.
This choice reflects a sense of safety evolving into ignorance. One such instance of societal ignorance is the voice of Sonam Wangchuk, education reformer and climate activist. Recently, his hunger strike surpassed 21 days, a peaceful protest for Ladakh’s cause met with deafening silence from those in power and society at large. This isn’t apathy; it’s negligence.
Environmental and climate activism in India often goes unnoticed by the government, receives limited media coverage, and remains unknown to the general public. However, Sonam Wangchuk stands as a notable exception. His influence extends even into Bollywood, as evidenced by the character Phunsuk Wangdoo in the film “3 Idiots,” inspired by Sonam’s real-life work. In India, social awareness is significantly influenced by Bollywood movies, making Sonam Wangchuk one of the country’s most recognized climate activists.
Despite this recognition, Wangchuk’s hunger strike demanding Ladakh’s inclusion in the Sixth Schedule of the Indian Constitution has been deliberately overlooked by the common public. Wangchuk’s demands for Ladakh’s statehood and inclusion in the Sixth Schedule aren’t unreasonable. Ladakh, with its breathtaking beauty and strategic importance, deserves a say in its destiny. The fragile Himalayan ecosystem, threatened by climate change, requires strong local leadership for preservation.
Wangchuk initiated his protest on March 6th, echoing Mahatma Gandhi’s longest hunger strike, vowing to continue in cycles of 21 days. Disappointed by failed talks with the Centre, he seeks national solidarity, urging citizens to hold a symbolic fast in support of Ladakh’s aspirations.
While Wangchuk endures sub-zero temperatures, the government’s response has been tepid at best. Ladakh isn’t a distant land; it’s intricately woven into India’s fabric. To ignore its plight is to ignore our own future.
As citizens, we must demand action from our representatives, support organizations working for Ladakh’s sustainable development, and ensure Ladakh’s cry echoes not only in the Himalayas but also in the corridors of power. This isn’t just about Ladakh; it’s about every marginalized community and environmental issue. If we fail to act, we fail ourselves, falling short of the ideals of a just society.
We may be remembered as the generation that ignored the cries from the rooftop of the world. Let’s heed the call, ensuring a future where Ladakh thrives and India stands tall in its response to our times’ challenges. Unfortunately, as a society, we’ve chosen to put on headphones, replaying “All is well,” and ignoring the sounds of climate change.